


The Soulless Sword

by Helios234



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Flashbacks, Friendship, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Psychological Torture, Slavery, Slow Romance, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:54:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29213745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helios234/pseuds/Helios234
Summary: What if, at the battle of the monastery, Byleth did not fall into the ravine and sleep for five years?What if he was captured by Thales and forged into the ultimate weapon, his will carefully whittled away until nothing but a soulless sword remained?"The citizens of Fodlan shall tremble before the leashed will of the progenitor God!"
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. A Staggering Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovely people. I have always wondered what would have occurred if Byleth was captured by those who slither in the dark. This may turn out to be a senseless fever dream but, nonetheless, I will not falter :)  
> Have no fear; I fully plan to update regularly once a week and maybe twice if I'm feeling the writing bug.

“Edelgard, my darling niece, I have come to present you with a gift,” said her uncle, Lord Arundel, with a lopsided smirk. 

Edelgard tried but failed to withhold her trepidation. After all, her uncle’s gift was sure to be unpleasant. She stood tall, looking him up and down, trying to spot the monster sure to be lurking in his eyes.

Lord Arundel’s only response to her blatant scrutiny was a widening of his smile, revealing flat, white teeth; nothing noticeable inhuman. “Your suspicion wounds me dearly, Edelgard. Can an uncle not give his niece a present? My gift is sure to be both a useful tool and a welcome comfort.”

“Be that as it may, you cannot fault me for my misgivings. Disregarding the fact that one of your conditions for this meeting was that Hubert wait with the traveling party, these are tumultuous times, uncle. I hope that my impatience will soon be proven unwarranted as I assume your reason for summoning me to this cursed place is of the utmost importance,” Edelgard responded with an arched brow.

“It seems that we are in agreement, for once. This wretched place should be wiped from the surface of this world and its history erased. A den of heretics, monsters who promoted the teachings of a false Goddess as an excuse to contain the free will of humanity, forcing us to convert on pain of death and violent retaliation,” his voice became more and more erratic as he spoke, “However, forgive my sense of humour, I deemed this place a fitting area for the bestowment of your gift. Poetic justice if you will.” A sudden burst of hysterical laughter punctuated the end of his rant.

A shiver jolted through her body as she beheld the dusty stone walls, once kept so immaculately clean. She tilted her crowned head up, squinting at the harsh rays of sunlight permeating through the massive hole in the ceiling. Smashed pews littered the marble floor and above all, the stunning mural of the Goddess lay in an unrecognizable crushed heap. Cursed place she may have deemed it but, truth be told, this place possessed more fond memories than foul. One thought threatened to rise above the sea of memories though, a thought she knew for certain would cause her resolve to falter, so Edelgard slammed a mental door in her head before that damning thought could pierce through. Rather than respond, she kept her mouth firmly shut and tilted her head in a silent gesture to carry on.

With a disdainful huff Lord Arundel turned on his heel, strolling to the side exit of the cathedral. Casually turning his head as he crossed the threshold, he uttered a simple, “Come Edelgard.”

She did not permit herself the luxury of feeling annoyed at the command, instead turning to follow the man. “What could this gift of his even be?” she mused, “There should be no chance of foul-play, our goals still align. The time for our tangled paths to diverge is still yet to come.” Perhaps, as unlikely as it was, Lord Arundel simply wished to lend his dubious support to the war. Though she loathed to admit it, the war had arrived at a complex stalemate. With half of the Kingdom lords rallying behind Duke Fraldarius, the current Duke Reigan’s scheming somehow preventing outright chaos in the Alliance and the primary might of the imperial army stretched thin over newly conquered territories, the war was moving at a pace far slower than was originally expected. 

Glancing across the expanse of stone, Edelgard glimpsed her uncle disappearing into the Goddess Tower. Her breath was released in a silent shudder as she entered, the darkness in the tower forcing her to recall far more unpleasant memories. “You are not there anymore,” a voice that was not her own echoed within her mind, causing her violet eyes to sting at the low cadence conjured by her memories.

Before she could become lost in her regret, Lord Arundel’s grating voice snapped her out of her train of thought, an occurrence she was secretly grateful for. “It is my sincerest hope that you will fully utilize my gift to assist in your efforts in this war. No effort was spared in its creation, five years of tireless work proved to be fruitful as your gift has now been forged for the sole purpose of conquest. Forgive my boasting, but it is, without a doubt, a most invaluable tool. If I may be so bold, it could help change the tide of this war.” As he was descending the interior stairs of the tower, his voice was increasing in pace and energy, until he began to resemble an overenthusiastic child.

Despite her best efforts, Edelgard’s heartrate increased in both trepidation and excitement as she descended into the darkness after him. Surely if her uncle, who was more monster than man, was reduced to a babbling youth when speaking about this weapon, it would prove to be another blight on humanity, a weapon of mass destruction forged by monsters. On the other hand, a weapon that could finally bring about the end of the war? The victims of the war could stop increasing, and the new, prosperous world could begin construction. 

The sound of a chuckle pierced the enveloping darkness at the bottom of the tower. “I see I have at last captured your interest, niece,” the shadow of her uncle remarked. “Come then and witness the glorious accumulation of my endeavours for these past five years. Enter and claim your weapon. A weapon of unequal power forged by the hands of men, not the foul machinations of an idle Goddess,” and with that, he wrenched open the door at the bottom of the tower.

Edelgard’s first coherent thought was, “Why is it so bright?” Then, the vivid green glow triggered her memories. “Hmm… so the Goddess Tower contained a passageway into the Holy Tomb.”

All at once, she could not contain her memories. She recalled seeing her dear teacher sitting on the blasphemous throne, appearing as resplendent as a God. She again cursed her hesitation in attacking them, the knowledge that this one deed would change everything. What she reaclled most of all though, was the errant madness in Dimitri’s eyes as he charged towards her and the horrible realisation in her teacher’s… Byleth’s eyes.

She had not realised her eyes had drifted close until Lord Arundel spoke, “Tsk tsk, Edelgard. I go to the trouble of summoning you here and preparing this gift and you will not even look upon it? I’m disappointed, is your father’s cowardice finally emerging in you?” 

Snapping her eyes open and cursing her brief loss of control, Edelgard gazed across the expanse of the Holy Tomb but everything went silent and came to an absolute stand-still when she beheld the sight in front of the Throne of the Goddess.

Iron hoops from which massive lengths of chain were anchored in the ceiling of the tomb above the throne. Accumulating directly in front of the throne, all the chains led to a kneeling figure. Draped in midnight robes, the person kneeled as still as a statue, with chains holding their wrists taut at their sides and anchoring their ankles to the glowing floor. No hood or headdress adorned their scalp, but long turquoise hair obscured their face which was directed downwards in a subservient position. 

Nothing could have withheld the shuddering gasp that exploded out of Edelgard’s lungs as she beheld the figure. Lurching forward, she could only mumble, “My teacher?”

The only response she garnered was out of her uncle, there was no change in the statuesque figure of her treasured friend. “Oh yes, he was a teacher here when you were busy playing student. Well, fear not, niece, this carefully crafted tool is sure to serve you well in your endeavours. The restraints were a needless inconvenience, but I just could not resist wrapping him up.”

Horrified at his words but unable to look away from the bowed head, Edelgard exclaimed, “Wh-What do you mean tool? How is he alive? You told me he died in the battle five years ago. Why is he not moving? What have you done?” her words trailing off in senseless mumbles she rushed to the stairs leading to the throne.

“I promised you a gift to alter the tide of this war, did I not? Although I suppose it is easier to show than to tell. You really do enjoy spoiling my fun, you know,” and with that, he ascended the stairs, stepping right up to Byleth who still had not moved a muscle and, pulling out a fragment of a glowing red stone from his pocket, said simply, “Look up.”

Rendered completely unprepared for the sight she was faced with, Edelgard stood mute. She expected to see the calm face of her teacher and braced herself for the hatred and anger that was sure to be in his eyes but that was not what she witnessed. His long turquoise hair failed to conceal the dark half-mask anchored on his face, with the tail-ends of a jagged scar disappearing beneath its surface. Glowing purple symbols pulsed on the surface of the mask and most disconcerting of all, a glowing red eye permeated through the confines of his face in place of the vivid green. 

The change in his eye caused dreadful memories to rise to the surface of Edelgard's mind. Memories of a proud young girl with long brown pigtails, so full of hope that was cruelly ripped away. 

Despite the changes she was forced to undergo, her violet eyes never deviated to the point where they could be considered inhuman. Byleth's new eye was not the case. The crimson eye pulsed with all the fire of life that appeared to be drained from him. Splitting the centre, was a jagged dark strip that would be considered reptilian in nature if it was not as jagged as if someone had taken a pupil, stretched it out and then torn it savagely in half. Radiating outward from the unnatural pupil was dark crimson cracks covering the entire surface, surrounded by a flood of orange fire in differing shades, lightest at the edge of the eye and then increasing in darkness towards the pupil. 

Shuddering at the thought, Edelgard could not help but think that the eye looked fit for the most horrendous of Demonic Beasts. 

The visible half of his face was a frightening shade, as white as bone; a face that had clearly not seen the sunlight for some time. In contrast to the unnaturally glowing red eye, the remaining eye retained its green colour but was utterly dull. Different than Byleth’s regular flat stare, this was a dullness devoid of human thought. He seemed to simply move his eyes, not actually looking at anything. His form was draped in dark robes, his hands confined in gloves and his feet concealed by leather boots so she could not discern any other changes.

Glancing at the stone in Lord Arundel’s hand, recalling his command and seeing the dullness in Byleth's gaze her control fractured. She faced her uncle, the monster, and yelled, “What did you do?”

Not bothering with charades anymore, he turned to her, and with a menacing smile said, “I have crafted you the perfect weapon.”


	2. The Demonstration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Edelgard unable to comprehend the fortunate situation they are now faced with, Lord Arundel believes a demonstration is in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, lovely people. Please accept my most sincere apologies for the three-day late update. I genuinely believed this was posted. Turns out my genius self forgot to click post :(

Flinching back from that smile, all Edelgard could motivate herself to do was stand numbly in place while her mind rebelled against the depravity of the situation.

“Crafted the perfect weapon.” Lord Arundel did speak as if her beloved friend, her patient teacher, was nothing more than an inanimate object devoid of a soul’s will. Her mind reeled, conjuring absolutely horrifying scenarios which Byleth could have been forced to undergo in order to be ‘crafted’ into this figure in front of her.

Above all else, one word persisted in echoing through her head, “Why?” Why was he here? Why was he like this? Why does he appear as if his mind has already perished while his body continues to persevere?

Lord Arundel cleared his throat impatiently which caused her to realise that she must have been lost in her thoughts. Edelgard could not even begrudge herself her lapse in control; this was not something she was prepared in the slightest to deal with. “You have failed in measuring up to my expectations, niece. I believed that you would have been ecstatic over my present. You certainly looked hopeful enough when I mentioned it could change the course of this war.”

She could not do this. She could not pretend that she was not shaken and out if her element. Forcing herself not to rush to release the restraints binding Byleth was already utilizing most of her energy. Opening her mouth, she mumbled, barely above a whisper, “I do not understand.”

“Well, I cannot fault you for that. In fact, I anticipated this. After all, it has always been my belief that it is much better to show than to tell. A demonstration is in order, wouldn’t you agree?” He turned to her with a smile that portrayed nothing but innocent excitement, all traces of the monster lurking beneath the surface conveniently tucked away.

Abruptly turning on his heel, he waved his hand at Byleth in an idle gesture and every single binding on him dropped away. No change in Byleth at first, his hands even remained at their stretched-out position at his sides but then… the fragment in Lord Arundel’s hand flared brighter and Byleth moved.

There was no jerkiness, no hesitation that spoke to the fact that he was most likely bound for quite some time. His movements were fluid, as graceful as that of a dancer but above all, he moved quickly. Edelgard had no time to register the fact that Byleth was now standing upright before he was towering over her, that damning eye of fire staring straight onto her violet ones.

Somehow containing her instinct to retreat, Edelgard instead compelled herself to return the stare. “You cannot be gone. That is not possible. Show me that you are still in there, my teacher.” These thoughts filtered through her mind in an endless jumble before she moved her hand, in halting movements, until it hovered just above the dark half-mask. The purple symbols acted as though they possessed a will of their own, shifting and morphing over the entire surface. Byleth gave no reaction to her proximity, there was no increased intensity in his hellish eye, the turquoise remained stubbornly dull and the remaining half of his face did not so much as twitch.

Suddenly Lord Arundel burst out laughing, causing her to hurriedly snatch her hand back. “You really don’t understand, do you? Forgive me for assuming you would have the sense to be able to grasp the bare minimum of the situation. Do not fool yourself into holding out hope that the soul of the man this vessel once contained still exists and is still fighting. He moves, he acts, he breathes because through this fragment I provide the will. A creation, perfect in every way, an empty vessel awaiting purpose. Follow and allow me to demonstrate.”

Without any outward prompting, Byleth turned towards the staircase leading out of the Holy Tomb and began ascending. Edelgard turned with a quizzical expression to her uncle who only raised a dark brow in response, a clear indication to follow.

Gritting her teeth at the thought of walking with a monstrous predator at her back, Edelgard followed behind her teacher. 

Contrary to her expectations, Byleth did not halt at the goddess tower but continued progressing. Exiting the tower and walking around the cathedral, his steps finally halted at the side gate leading out of the monastery.

Her confusion doubled and she idly wondered if she should summon Hubert to her side from his position in the entrance hall with the rest of their miniscule traveling party. Disconcertingly, her uncle seemed to know what she was considering. “Leave your loyal pet out of this for now. We will not be at risk of becoming injured. Besides, there is so much we have yet to accomplish.” She did not deign to respond to that, instead she opted to stare resolutely ahead.

“As you would have no doubt noticed, several of the miserable wretched around here have resorted to pillaging in a fruitless endeavour to survive. You avoided these packs of vermin to ensure your presence was undetected, but I think that it is about time someone dealt with them.” 

Acting as if he was a participant in some kind of grand spectacle, Lord Arundel twirled his arm and Byleth shifted the massive robe off of his frame. It fell limply to the dusty ground, revealing that Byleth wore armour underneath. At first glance his amour appeared to possess a glimmering black outlook but, when a streak of sunlight fell directly over him, it was apparent that the amour was made of minute pieces all interlocked together to form a protective barrier which would be as flexible as a second skin when moving. Shimmering spots of indigo, purple and turquoise captivated her attention. It had to have been her imagination but Edelgard could not help but think that his amour appeared to be constructed of scales.

Draped around his neck, was what gave the appearance of another chain. This one was a drak grey shade, almost black, but then a red pulse shuddered through it and it shifted slightly, without Byleth making another move. Edelgard blinked at then the realisation struck her. That was the Sword of the Creator. On further inspection, the sword did not seem to be anchored around Byleth, it was just carelessly drapped over his neck as if he could not be bothered to hold it. Memories of that sword arcing through the air from her teacher’s hands, its reach unreasonably long and its flexibility more like that of a whip, rushed through her. She did not let her bafflement over its dark appearance show, there would be time for answers later. 

Byleth’s long turquoise hair, framing his face and falling like a wavy mane down his back, his terrifyingly blank expression, the foreboding half-mask and, most evidently, that demon eye, caused a shiver to run down Edelgard’s back. Alongside the fear was a pang of sympathy for the unfortunate thieves who were soon to meet him in combat. 

Edelgard understood. She knew that choosing to walk this path would lead to her hands being drenched with blood, but she learned to accept that fact. The victims this twisted world has claimed throughout history and the victims that it would continue to claim far outweighed the victims of this war. Understanding that this would result in her being deemed a monstrous tyrant, she thought, “They are a necessary sacrifice.”

As much as she dreaded whatever horrors Byleth had been forced to undergo, turning him into a mindless puppet, she was morbidly curious as to the extent to which he could be commanded.

“Come, come, I have dallied long enough. I promised you a demonstration, did I not?” Before Edelgard could brace herself, she experienced the slight dizziness that heralded the casting of a warp spell and found herself on the outskirts of one of the ruined towns around the monastery.

Lord Arundel stood at her right while Byleth waited at her left, the only difference evident in him was that his eyes were now closed and the symbols on the mask had settled to a steady pulse. Jolting at a foreign voice, Edelgard glanced further down and viewed a member of one of the theives’ gangs screaming at them, “Where did you come from? Get out of here! This is our treasure!”

Huffing out a laugh of disdainful amusement, her uncle uttered, “Let the demonstration commence.”

Before Edelgard could register what was going on, the thieve shuddered and dropped abruptly to his knees. There was a pause and then… a horrible shriek, portraying so much agony and suffering it was utterly unbearable to listen to and reminded Edelgard of times when her own voice probably sounded the same. 

Frantically, she turned to Byleth and flinched back in horror at what she witnessed. The cracks throughout his demon eye were crackling and shifting, the jagged pupil was contracted to a narrow slit and the fiery orange pulsed like a wildfire. The symbols on the half-mask were back in full morphing into sharp angular patterns that appeared threatening in nature. Worst of all though, was the ends of the jagged scar under the mask, it appeared to be extending and carving a new path through his face, leaving a vivid line of crimson blood, dripping onto the floor and causing the grass to steam. 

There was no doubt in her mind that Byleth was responsible for the man’s suffering.

The thief was dragged forward as if on puppet strings, landing prone on the ground in front of them, his face yanked backwards to face Edelgard. Tears streaked down his face and his screeches had been chocked off to gasps, a sign that the pain had gotten to the extent of him going into shock. As she watched, Byleth slowly swivelled his turquoise head in the direction of the thief and his entire focus fell on the man.To her astonishment, Byleth opened his mouth and, in a voice all the more despicable due to the fact that it remained the same as deep cadence as five years ago, said, “Slave.”

The chocking gasps and shudders came to a halt and the thief turned his face to Byleth and smiled, a smile so soft and grateful it was as if their most cherished loved one stood before them. Bowing down until his face lay flat against the ground, a drop of Byleth’s blood splashed onto the man’s nape.

“Are you paying attention Edelgard? Look on and understand the extent of my generosity. Witness your new weapon.” Lord Arundel practically vibrated with glee.

Byleth gracefully crouched in font of the prone figure and stared straight ahead, his blank expression never wavering. When the thief lifted his head, his mortal eyes were the same dark purple colour as the symbols on Byelth’s mask. “My beloved God, I am your humble slave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter may come across a little like a filler but rest assured there's more action to be seen in the next chapter.


	3. Slaves of a Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the battle for the monastery a promise of safe return is made while the present day is drenched in blood.
> 
> Trigger warning: self-harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My most sincere apologies for the late update. You know the feeling of being knocked down and then having someone repeatedly kick you while you plead for mercy? Yeah that about sums up my relationship with life for the past two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter (:

Five years ago…

The soldier collapsed onto the ground, clutching the deep gash in his arm. Stunned, he gazed up at the Imperial soldier wielding the broadsword that was positioned to split his head in two. Never had the Church of Seiros insignia the soldier once wielded so proudly felt more like a damning brand.

“How had it come to this? How could the immensely powerful Church of Seiros fall to the Adrestian Empire?”

As the sword reached the peak of its arc, the Church soldier’s eyes slipped shut in resignation of his doomed fate. A whoosh of air, which he imagined to be the sword plummeting downwards, and then a choked gurgle.

In astonishment, he finally registered that the sound did not resonate from him, but rather the Imperial soldier. His eyes snapped open and the first thing he recognised was the reddish, glowing point protruding from his opponent’s neck. The red-clothed soldier’s eyes were wide and pleading, while crimson blood bubbled from his lips. Suddenly, the point was wrenched out of his neck, ripping more tissue in the process and causing blood to splatter all over the unfortunate Church soldier.

For one terrible moment, the Imperial soldier swayed listlessly, with a gaping hole in his neck, before finally collapsing to the ground in an ever-increasing pool of blood. Standing in his place, the glowing sword gripped in his gloved palms, with the blade drenched in blood, was none other than Professor Byleth.

The lone Church soldier, separated from his legion, and miraculously pulled from the jaws of death, gazed upon his saviour. The professor’s dark clothes were bloodstained but from what could be discerned, not wounds on his person were evident. A flick of his wrist, too rapid to keep track of, and the blood coating the Sword of the Creator sprayed onto the ground. Professor Byleth lowered his eyes to the soldier and reached out his palm in an offer to help him stand. He had heard the stories, but for the first time the soldier understood why the favoured teacher at the Officer’s Academy was known as the Ashen Demon.

A smear of blood marred one cheek, but the professor’s face remained expressionless. Those bizarre turquoise eyes of his were alert, scanning the near vicinity and the jumbled chaos of two armies crossing weapons and extinguishing lives with the calm of one assessing the weather to determine if it interfered with his plans.

Gulping nervously, the Church soldier grasped the outstretched hand with his uninjured arm. Effortlessly, the Ashen Demon pulled him to his feet. Trying not to flinch, he did his best to stand tall as the turquoise eyes of the professor scanned him up and down, lingering on the gash in his arm. There was a soft green glow, following by a cooling sensation, and the soldier gasped as the skin knitted back together. Overwhelmed by gratitude, he took advantage of the temporary calm that surrounded them to bow his head to the professor, “Th-Thank you, professor. Words cannot express to you the full extent of my gratitude. I am in your debt.”

“Nonsense. We are comrades fighting for the same cause, are we not? If comrades had to pay back for every time a fellow comrade saved them, and if comrades demanded payment for every life of their fellow comrades saved, we would all spend our afterlives in a constant scramble to pay and collect debts. I saved your life today and perhaps you will save the life of another tomorrow.” The professor did not smile, but his serious demeanour seemed to lift for a split second.

Then, his eyes became serious once again. “We must not tarry. This is not the place for idle conversation. If you are hale, then I must ask you to wield your weapon once again. If you are not, retreat. Senseless bravado will get you nowhere, there is no shame in living to fight another day.” And with that, the soldier watched as he advanced a step, only to pause as a blond head darted through the commotion and headed in their direction.

Scooping his iron sword from the ground, the soldier held it in a ready position but then falter ed when Crown Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd emerged from the tumult with a menacing grin on his face. Contrary to the prince’s normal immaculate appearance, his hair and face was drenched with blood. Charging forward, he as well came to halt ten paces from the professor.

The professor’s expression did not alter but the soldier detected caution in his voice as he uttered, “Dimitri.”

At once, the maniacal smile was wiped off the prince’s face and instead a look of intense concern replaced it. “Byleth, I could not find you anywhere. Why are you always running off on your own? How was I to know that something tragic did not befall you?” Then, the prince sprinted forward and, to the soldier’s shock, embraced the professor.

For the first time, the expressionless face changed, and a soft smile emerged. Feeling as though he was interrupting a moment that should remain private the soldier looked away as the professor ruffled the prince’s hair. “I will admit that I was worried about you as well, but we truly do not have the luxury of wasting time now, my fierce lion. We both know that it is more effective if we spilt up.”

Abruptly ending the peaceful moment, there was an angry yell, followed by three Imperial soldiers charging toward them. The Church soldier raised his blade to intercept them and then watched, with morbid fascination, as a glowing arc cut through all of them, simultaneously.

As the soldier looked on the glowing, whiplike arc, was retracted back into a sword shape in the professor’s hands. “We have our commands Dimitri. The monastery must not fall. I will reunite with you when this is over.” Professor Byleth then pivoted on his heel, poised to charge back into the fray, when the prince grasped his hand.

His voice brimmed with rage as he looked into the professor’s eyes, “This does not end until I have Edelgard’s head mounted on my lance.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft, so much so that the soldier barely heard the words, “Please be safe and return to me.”

Turing away completely, the last thing the Church soldier heard was the professor’s soft utterance, “Of course, you as well.”

Present…

In the ensuing silence, the only noise was the sound of Byleth’s blood dripping onto the ground.

Drip. Drip. Drip. The repeated noise echoing like the damning word in Edelgard’s head “Slave. Slave. Slave.”

The thief’s purple eyes’ sole focus was Byleth, staring intently while his mouth curved into a smile full of love and reverence. After pledging his servitude, his head dropped back to the ground, his facing laying directly against the filthy earth.

Byleth rose to his full height, the demon eye never faltering in its frightening intensity while the dull green eye was utterly devoid of focus and turned to face Edelgard.

“Are you not impressed, Edelgard? Are you not grateful? Do you finally understand? A weapon, a tool, that will change the tide of this war. My gift to you, niece.” And with that, Byleth sank to one knee, the Sword of the Creator grasped in his palm, with the tip pointing towards the ground, and his turquoise head bowed, obscuring those inhuman eyes. For a brief moment, Edelgard could almost pretend that the figure in front of her was a knight kneeling to swear his loyalty to her service, but then cold reality crashed in, along with that word, “Slave.”

The irony was not lost to her, a slave exerting control over another slave, for was that not what her beloved teacher had been reduced to?

Before, she could utter another word, Lord Arundel clapped his hands together and Byleth jerked up to his feet once more. “There are more vermin that needs dealing with, are there not?” He gestured to the crest of a hill where the rest of the thieves’ gang could be noticed milling around a fire.

Before Edelgard’s shocked gaze, Byleth lifted the Sword of the Creator. She was fully expecting him to charge towards the thieves so, with the greatest astonishment, she witnessed him remove one if his dark gloves and stab the point of the sword directly through his right hand.

Her protestations were drowned out by the horrible sound of Byleth ripping the sword out if hand. The drip, drip, drip intensified as large rivulets of blood ran down his fingers to the floor. Worst of all, was the way his expression did not falter.

“What madness are you doing? Stop this at once!” Edelgard exclaimed in outrage. What could Lord Arundel possibly be hoping to accomplish by having Byleth turn his sword upon himself? Watching Byleth be forced to harm other was horrible enough; watching him compelled to harm himself was another thing entirely. Something she refused to accept.

“Hush, and watch, Edelgard,” her uncle dismissed her, casually, “Do you really believe I would carelessly discard the tool I laboured so dutifully to create?” he pointed to the ground, at the area where Byleth’s blood was congealing.

Against all logic, the dark crimson pool starting morphing. Twisting, bubbling and hissing the blood began moving in the direction of the thieves. If gazed at from a distance, Edelgard imagined the blood would appear to be a serpent slithering along the ground.

Thankfully, the large puncture in Byleth’s hand seemed to halt its bleeding but his demon eye began crackling with a higher intensity and his gaze shifted to the thieves around the fire. Her heart pounding, Edelgard watched as the blood serpent crested the hill and then…

Silence.

All sounds of joking and merriment were extinguished. Harbouring a suspicion of what would occur next. Edelgard returned her gaze to Byleth, just in time to see him open his mouth and once again recite that damning word, “Slave.”

The thieves on the hill wasted no time in descending towards the trio. As they arrived before Byleth, each one dropped into a prostate position and repeated, “My Beloved God, I am your humble slave.” Every single one of their eyes was a dark purple colour.

“You may thank me now, Edelgard. The fruit of fives years of tireless work lies before you. The ability to conjure an army that will not hesitate that will not question.” Lord Arundel’s words were coated with smug satisfaction. “I believe this is the end of my demonstration. Worry not, these sorry fools are not worth a second thought. They have served their purpose. I did promise that they would be dealt with, did I not?”

There was no outward command from Byleth, but every thief raised themselves into a kneeling position and, drawing the knives from their belts said, with a loving and eager smile, “Yes, my Lord.”

Edelgard bore witness as every single one of the thieves slit their own throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I am ready to bare my soul before your judgement. If I may be given the chance to plead my case; this is my first ever fic. I am fully open to any suggestions or criticisms you may have. I do have a basic idea of how I want the story to go but I am not against adding new things if you so desire ;)
> 
> Also, this fic will not be limited to one house. Think of it as a sort of merging of all three. This is for clarification; if different characters show a closeness with Byleth it is because he was a close teacher to all of them (I never really liked how interactions with the different house members were so isolated when you pick one house in the game)


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